


Sorry....

by Lamamu



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Badass Donna, F/M, Hurt Dean, eventually
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2019-03-08 04:05:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13450173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lamamu/pseuds/Lamamu
Summary: Dean knows he has no right to be there, at her doorstep. But there he is anyway.It's the middle of the night and he's hurting. Sam is AWOL and Donna is all he can think about.





	1. Dragging feet

Dean slammed his hand down on the steering wheel in frustration. He’d been parked outside of her house for about an hour, looking at the closed curtains and soft lighting like some kind of stalker. The very kind of loser he despised.

Green eyes sought out the time on his phone, and darted back to the door as it opened and the slender shape of a dark grey cat came slinking out. Like the coward he had been telling himself he was, Dean slid down in his seat, praying to Chuck that she wouldn’t recognise his car in the shadows. Should he go in? Knock on the door? Say ‘hey, I know last time we met I fucked up and left you hanging but can I come in?’ If their roles were reversed, Dean was pretty sure he’d be greeting himself at the door with a loaded shotgun.

God, he had never wished for a beer so hard as he did right now. Whiskey would be better but hey, beggars could never be choosers. Scrubbing a tired and frustrated hand down the side of his face, Dean exhaled long and loud. “Get out of the car or get out of here loser.” He berated himself for what must have been the hundredth time. But did she really need his crap on her doorstep again? After all, it was the very reason he’d left her in the first place. After that Wendigo attack, Dean realised that his feelings for her went a bit deeper, lasted a bit longer than they should have.

He had no right to be there…. And yet, there he was. The great Dean Winchester, chicken shit scared of a woman who had thrown him out on his ass because he’d deliberately forced her to.

_“Get out of here Dean. No! Don’t you dare apologise to me, I’ve put up with enough. You taught me I don’t have to put up with it anymore. So. Get. Out.”_

Feet dragged along the pavement, toes scuffed, and Dean realised he was almost at the door. At her door. A hand raised to the knocker, covered in blood. In Sam’s blood. Or maybe his blood, Dean couldn’t tell. Both, probably. They’d really gotten into it this time, and for the life of him Dean couldn’t remember how it started. One thing was for sure, they both needed some time to cool off, so Sam had taken himself off to see.. Dean had no idea where Sam had gone. He bit his lip, his stomach churning, chewing up his insides like the cat curling around his ankles was chasing its tail in his belly.

_Knock, knock, knock._

Before he could process it, Dean’s traitorous and bloodied hand had closed in on the door and knocked, the staccato sound of his knuckles on the timber echoing in the night. The hunter groaned inwardly and shoved both hands in his pockets before either one could betray him again and waited, his fate sealed.

Footsteps came closer. A lock was thrown back. And then another.

_Good,_ Dean thought to himself as the door opened a crack. _She had listened to that advice, at least._

The cat meowed at his feet and slid through the crack. In his bewildered, frazzled state Dean wondered how such a fat animal could squeeze through such a narrow opening. His eyes followed the cat as it disappeared into the house with an irritated flick of its tail, and froze when they encountered slippered feet.

_Her_ slippered feet. Pale green with little bright yellow lemons on them. Hiding her delicate toes. God, she was adorable. Everything about her was just… perfect. And he had no right to be there.

Dean’s thoughts were interrupted by a shocked gasp. He chewed on his bottom lip again as he forced his reluctant eyes to move upwards, taking in the sight of her. As much as he could anyway, while he had the chance. It was only a matter of time before she slammed the door in his face.

Her legs were covered in pink flannelette plaid that ended tucked underneath the black short sleeved shirt that hid the curves that haunted Dean’s dreams almost every night. He could see her chest rising and falling, witnessed the rapid beat of her heart through the thin fabric, and with no small amount of effort pulled his thoughts away from the memory of how soft her skin was underneath his calloused palms. The long, blonde hair he expected to see tumbling in waves over her shoulders was pulled back into a careless ponytail. Flushed cheeks and pink lips distracted him, but as green eyes finally met with the confused brown ones that greeted him, Dean broke the silence.

“Hi, Sheriff.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry.. for the angst.

**TWO:**

 

_ Knock, knock, knock. _

Donna’s thoughts were rudely interrupted by the insistent knock and her first thought went to Captain Scruffnut, the grey cat she’d let out not ten minutes earlier. Right on time, he’d started wailing to be let out for his nightly patrol. At least that’s what the Sheriff called it. In truth, he was probably just going to steal food from the cat next door, dig a hole, pee next to it then wander off without bothering to cover it up.

He was superior like that.

She considered just leaving him out there for a while longer, the case file she had in her hand was too intriguing, too confusing and way too much like something supernatural for her to dismiss it like the fancy pants detectives that blew in and out from St. Paul had done. Of course, they didn’t know what she did. 

_ They _ thought monsters didn’t exist. Boy did she wish they were wrong. And with that thought, her mind went to how she, Donna Hanscum, Sheriff of Stillwater had found out that awful truth… and who it had brought along with it.

“Oh darn it.” She mumbled as her memory decided to dredge up every single memory she had of him, good and bad. Throwing the file onto the coffee table, Donna stood and went to the door hoping to distract herself for a few precious moments. She’d learned pretty quickly it didn’t do well to mope around thinking about Dean Winchester.

_ “Whoever said that chicks who can down a beer in ten seconds wasn’t sexy is lying to themselves. That was hot as fu--.. As fudge. Hot as fudge.” Dean had said to her, his green eyes twinkling with mirth after Donna had accepted, then beaten his challenge one night when they’d gone to a local bar to celebrate a successful hunt. _

_ Made bold by the alcohol that was starting to swim through her system, Donna had grinned cheekily at him and given him a nudge with her free hand. “Oh yah? You ain’t seen nothing yet Winchester.” He was turned to face her on his bar stool, his knees parted around where she had set hers. Almost close enough for her to touch. If she wasn’t so awkward and thoroughly convinced Dean would never, ever want someone like her. Not when there was that gorgeous bartender making eyes at him every time she filled their drinks _

_ Her smile faded slightly and she turned her head to hide the look of sadness that crept across her face. Signaling for another round from the flirty brunette, Donna tried to hide the nerves that bubbled to the surface as she stammered out her thanks. It didn’t matter, the woman ignored her completely, giving Dean her full attention as always. He could at least pretend he wasn’t interested until he could escape her. On and on, her thoughts spiraled, circling lower and lower into the familiar pit of despair she always felt in situations like this. _

_ Why was she even there anyway? How long before Dean excused himself and took off with the Minnesota tramp for a night of hot sweaty sex that she could only dream about? Just the thought of Dean in bed with someone else was enough to twist her insides into an anxious mess. _

_ “Dean I think I should -” She started to say, twisting in her seat to face him again, only to find him watching her so intently she shrank in on herself a little more. He’d noticed. Of  _ course _ he’d noticed. _

_ “You’re not leaving me are you Donna?” Dean’s voice came to her, low and gravelly. He sounded a little panicked. Like her leaving would upset him. _

_ She snorted at the thought, then sighed and sipped at her beer, noticing that the one she had been given had a lot more head on it than was right. Stupid pretty woman and her stupid amateur beer pulling skills. “I mean I don’t want to be a party pooper Dean, but it seems you are about to have your ah… needs filled.” _

_ “Huh?” He’d thrown back at her, a look of confusion crossing his chiseled features. “...The hell are you talking about? The only  _ need _ that I have right now is this beer, and sitting here talking to you.” _

_ “And what about that?” Donna pointed with her foamy beer to the brown haired floozy that was currently at the other end of the bar, trying not to look in their direction. _

_ Dean’s eyes followed where she pointed and he snorted and raised an eyebrow. “Trust me Sheriff, women like that are a dime a dozen.” He let his gaze wander back to her, and Donna clearly remembered swallowing the lump that appeared in her throat as Dean’s eyes raked over her, down, down her body and back up again. Like he was undressing her with his now darkened eyes. _

_ Like it was Donna he wanted. _

_ “Sorry, what?” She’d responded, realising he was still talking. Something about her being one of a kind or.. What?  _

Step inside, walk this way.

You and me babe, hey hey!

_ “Oh! I love this song.!” Donna had blurted out suddenly when the familiar tones of Def Leppard began to pump through the bar. Truthfully, she just wanted to change the subject and stop the cruel tricks her mind was playing on her right now. Lifting the glass to her full lips, Donna had chugged the rest of her beer down, slammed it onto the counter and slipped out of her chair. _

_ “I’m going to dance, Winchester.” The beers must have been making her bolder, because Donna had found herself leaning in towards Dean with a wicked grin on her face. “Don’t let anyone take my seat.” The dopey grin that lit up his face as he just stared at her and nodded was all she needed. With an uncharacteristic sassy flip of her hair, the Sheriff of Stillwater had hit the dance floor, grinning in delight. She remembered losing herself there as the beers kicked in. Donna swayed, her hips moving in time with the beat, not even noticing the effect she was having on more than one man in the bar. All she saw, all she felt in that time was the music. Even Dean, and the anxiety that she’d felt moments before began to fade. _

_ Until he was there. In her space, his body aligned with hers from behind. His voice, sultry in her ear as he slid his arms about her waist. The hard planes of his chest and abs pushed against her soft skin. _

_ “Do you realise how many eyes are on you right now Sheriff?” Was that... jealousy she heard in his voice? The low, gravelly tones had gone right to her centre. Right to that place inside her that had been left wanting for so long. And damn, it felt good. _

_ “Dean! Shoot, don’t scare a girl like that.” She had almost jumped out of her skin when Dean grabbed her, but when he pulled her closer still it was all Donna could do to stay upright. Words escaped her so she let her body speak, keeping time with the music, moving in perfect rhythm with him. _

_ Somehow during the course of the song their positions changed, and by the time it ended Donna found herself facing Dean, her arms wrapped around his neck with her back to the wall. In the dim light, nobody paid attention to another handsy couple on the dance floor, which was just as well. _

_ The air escaped her lungs as Dean had pressed himself against her and raised one hand to cup her face. Donna’s nerve left her just as soon as it had appeared, and it was all she could do to stare up at Dean through her long eyelashes as he crowded impossibly closer into her personal space. _

_ He didn’t say a word for a long time, just stared at her. Like he was fighting some kind of internal war.  _

_ “.....” Dean’s mouth opened and closed again without a sound, but he leaned in closer, his eyes darting to her lips every few seconds. The hand on her waist tightened at the same time as he brushed the tip of his thumb over her bottom lip. _

_ Donna couldn’t help it. Her body was reacting of its’ own accord and before she could stop herself, her traitorous tongue had darted out to taste Dean’s thumb. Just a little, before it was denied her forever. Her hands began to card through the short hair at the base of Dean’s neck and she briefly remembered wondering if time had stood still. _

_ And then Dean’s mouth was on hers, lips brushing, dusting, barely touching. Donna felt him groan once and then the storm hit. The impossible happened. He kissed her like he meant it. The weird hesitation she’d seen in his eyes was gone, banished as he invaded her mouth like he’d invaded her space. _

_ Boy was she glad the wall was behind her. Holding her up. With ease, he slotted one leg between her knees and forced them to part a little, making room for himself as he sank further in. Their tongues danced, setting a beat of their own. Donna felt like she could do this all day. Or night, as the case was. _

_ “Let me take you home..?” The question that was whispered in Donna’s ear broke her out of the reverie she’d been thrust into and she’d swallowed, nodding, and found her voice. _

_ “Oh, yeah. You betcha.”  _

_ Neither of them had moved until a drunk dancer had crashed into the back of Dean, momentarily breaking the spell that had fallen between them. He led Donna off the dancefloor and towards their seats so they could collect their jackets. There was a pair of fresh new beers waiting for them when they got there, and with a shrug and a nod of thanks, they decided to stay for one more. It would be rude to just ignore a free beer, after all. _

_ Donna would forever curse that beer. _

_ As Dean slid onto his stool, she’d leaned in to let him know she’d be back, and headed off to the ladies room. But not before he’d managed to kiss her again, getting her so flustered she could barely walk straight. _

_ Of course, the line was out the door. Of course, only one stall was stocked. It was just lucky that the ladies were an ingenious lot, and were sharing the toilet paper between the stalls so that they could all get back out there faster. As it was, Donna was hopping from one foot to the other by the time it was her turn. She kept her mind occupied by coming up with very graphic images of what she wanted to do to Dean when she finally got him alone. If she had the nerve, that is. Not one of them involved clothing. Quite a few involved food. And getting messy. _

_ There was a definite strut in her step as she rounded the corner into the bar. Donna felt empowered, and she knew it was because of the attention Dean had paid to her. He’d passed up on others for her tonight. Sure, she knew what he was like… his reputation had preceded him, but if one night was all she could have? It was better than nothing, right? But something told her that wasn’t what this was. _

_ Right. _

_ Pep talk out of the way, Donna grinned when she approached Dean from behind, unable to see all of him through the crowd until she drew closer. What she saw when she eventually could see him broke her. _

_ The Minnesota hussy, straddled over his lap, grinding down on him, and from where Donna stood, she had her tongue jammed down his throat. From where Donna stood, all she could see was Dean’s hands traveling over her, his body reacting to the tramp’s like it had been doing to hers not twenty minutes earlier. _

_ From where Donna stood, if she didn’t get out of there in the next ten seconds, she was going to crumble into a million pieces. Her feet were moving before she realised, and within seconds Donna was wrenching her jacket out from underneath Dean’s leg. Her hands were shaking, and she couldn’t help the tear that had escaped the corner of her eye. If she had been in a better frame of mind, minute details would have fallen into place in her mind. Maybe she would have noticed that something wasn’t right, but in her current state, rational thought and reason weren’t an option. _

_ “So nice seeing you again Dean.” She managed to get out, surprising herself with how calm her voice was. “Give my regards to Sam.” And with that, Donna spun on her heel and stalked out of the bar. She headed for the taxi rank, sighing in relief that there was one waiting. She didn’t know how much longer she could hold it together. _

_ “Donna!” She heard the desperate cry coming from the door of the bar. Heard him asking if anyone had seen her. Heard his footsteps come closer, and the sigh of relief when he saw her standing there, alone. _

_ “Please don’t leave.” Desperate, pleading. Guilty. “Let me explain..she - ” _

_ But Donna wasn’t in the mood to listen. Not anymore. Not now that she felt like she’d been played for a fool. _

_ “Get out of here Dean. No! Don’t you dare apologise to me, I’ve put up with enough. You taught me I don’t have to put up with it anymore. So. Get. Out.” _

“Damn, damn.” Donna fought back the emotion that always came with thoughts of that night and moved to the door to let Captain Scruffnut in. Her mind didn’t register that the cat couldn’t have knocked on the door, so it was with no small amount of confusion she looked at the scuffed shoes on the verandah floor.

When she raised her eyes, the first thing Donna saw was the blood. The second, was that it was attached to the one person she didn’t expect to see. To her own surprise, when she spoke, her voice was steady. Even. There was nothing there to betray the turmoil that was raging inside her, as raw as ever. As much as Donna wanted to slam the door in his face, she was still a Sheriff, still a protector. Turning Dean away just wasn’t an option.

The door opened wider, and she stepped to one side, not really trusting herself to say anything more than what was necessary.

“I hope you’re not allergic to cats.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens.
> 
> ~~~
> 
> Thank you all for the lovely comments so far! I really appreciate them.

Dean didn’t really expect her to let him in, but when Donna stepped aside he moved without thinking twice and shrugged off his jacket. He held onto it, standing awkwardly in the foyer until Donna motioned for him to take a seat.

“I…” Why was this so hard? Oh yeah, right. He sat down in the corner of the sofa, taking care not to disturb the cat, who had sprawled himself across the middle of it and was now taking great pains to clean himself.

He tried again. “Donna I…”

At the same time he heard her say “Can I get you a drink?”

Their eyes met, and Dean could see the unasked questions in her sad brown ones. All of them. He’d be lying to himself if he said it didn’t kill him a little to see such hurt radiating from someone like Donna. She deserved better than anything he could offer her. He was stupid to think it could have ever been otherwise….wasn’t he?

“Whiskey… or beer. Whatever you have..” He replied quietly, hiding his broken skin underneath his jacket. Dean knew she’d seen it and if she asked, he’d tell her, but right now he just needed to breathe. Donna didn’t say a word, she just silently stood and vanished into where Dean knew the kitchen was. With a heavy sigh, the elder Winchester let his head fall back and rest on the soft cushions. Eyes closed, Dean took a calming breath and let the soothing essence of the Sheriff’s house wash over him. The only sound in the room aside from his own slow breathing was coming from Captain Scruffnut, who had settled himself against Dean’s leg and was now purring loudly.

“Well, don’t you two look nice and cosy?” Donna found herself commenting as she re-entered the room. Dean was slumped in the corner of the sofa with one bloody hand lazily stroking the cat. “I sure am glad  _ someone _ is comfortable.” She winced at her own words, knowing that they had come out sounding catty but unable to stop them at the same time. The cat and Dean turned their heads to look at her in unison and two sets of eyes regarded her calmly. Donna found herself trying to hide the grin that threatened to come forth. Dammit. Why did that have to look so adorable? She was trying to maintain her mad and a cute cat conspiring with hottest guy she’d ever met wasn’t helping.

Setting the whiskey down on the table with a pair of glasses, Donna also dropped a bag she had tucked under her arm. Dean eyed it curiously as he sat forward to pour them both a shot and raised an eyebrow.

“‘S’that?” He mumbled, wincing as he felt the cuts on his hand tear open as his fingers curled around the glass. The little bag was covered in some kind of flower, and Dean caught the distinct smell of strawberry. What could she possibly have in there that involved strawberry?

“A first aid kit. Don’t think I’m going to let you sit there bleeding out on my sofa Dean. That’s just not happening.” Donna began to unpack the contents of the bag, grumbling under her breath as she dug around. Maybe if she fixed him up he’d tell her why he was there. Or leave. Yes. She wanted him to leave.

“It’s okay. I didn’t come here because of a few scrapes and bruises….” He said, reaching out with his free hand to stop her movements. He didn’t want her to think he was there to have her stitch him up like some kind of nursemaid. With strawberry bandaids. Dean didn’t actually know what he wanted. He was however, taken aback when she pulled her hand away as though she’d been stung. Now that, he definitely wasn’t expecting.

Donna dropped all of the things she’d collected onto the coffee table, spilling them all over the files she’d left there when Dean had knocked on the door. She picked up her glass and knocked back the contents, welcoming the burn of the amber liquid as it set fire to her insides and gave he the liquid courage she so desperately craved.

“Then why the heck are you here, Dean?” She snapped out at him irritably, not even bothering to hide it anymore.

“I…” It appeared he was lost for words again, so with a low growl of frustration Donna stood up and stalked across the room. She began to pace back and forth, getting lost in the anger and the hurt that was rising again.

It was a few long agonising moments before either of them spoke again. Dean watched her pacing and hated that he’d done this to their friendship. Hated that he hadn’t moved fast enough to get that barmaid off his lap. Most of all, Dean hated that he’d been the one that made her feel like Doug had for all those years.

“I don’t know.” Dean swallowed. That wasn’t what he was going to say, but it was all that came out. He saw Donna pause, and her nostrils flared as she tried to get her emotions under control. Dean just sighed and reached for the whiskey bottle again. 

Donna shook her head and turned away from Dean, moving to stand by the window so that she didn’t have to look at him while he made his lame excuses. “That’s not fair.”

The next time he spoke, his voice was rough with the whiskey that was obviously still coating his tongue and Donna had to strain to hear him. 

“I thought she was you.”

“Bullshit.” Stupid Dean. It was rare that Donna felt frustrated enough to curse. The Sheriff bumped her head against the glass a few times, concentrating on the coolness there rather than entertaining the idea that he might be telling her the truth. She didn’t want to hear it. Not now. Not if that meant she had acted like a fool. How could things possibly be anything other than what she had seen that night? She felt rather than heard Dean approach, even though he was speaking to her the whole time.

“...I wouldn’t believe me either. But I want you to know.. You deserve nothing but the truth.” Was that a hint of pain she heard in his voice? Donna clenched her fists at her sides to stop her hands from reaching for Dean. The traitors.

“It’s too late. I don’t want to hear it Dean.” 

Liar, liar pants on fire.

Dean sighed and ran a hand through his hair, no longer caring if he smeared blood everywhere. It had been a long day, a long night and he had made a mistake. He shouldn’t have come like this. But dammit, this had been on his mind long enough. It had caused him problems just about everywhere in his life and it was time to confront it. “Well you’re going to.” He said, his voice a little stronger than before. Determined. Almost like he was just as pissed off as she was now. “And then I’ll leave, I promise.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Donna saw him in the reflection of the window and it was enough to make her cave. Just a little. She turned around and put her hands on her hips, looking slightly ridiculous in her slippers and pink pyjama pants. She had to get this next bit out before she lost her nerve. One of her fingers prodded Dean hard in the chest. “Then talk. Tell me Dean. Tell me why you had that.. Ugh… in your lap after you asked me to, if I, to…!!” That was it. Donna swallowed hard and pushed herself past him to the dubious safety of the alcohol. She grabbed the bottle and sat heavily on the sofa, sloshing the liquid into her glass without looking at it.

Once more, she drank it down in one go and slammed the glass onto the table, cupping her hands to her face and burying it miserably soon after. When she eventually raised her eyes to meet his, they were brimming with unshed tears.

“...Why?”

One word. One loaded question.

Her anger was gone, Dean could see that clearly. But boy did he wish it would come back. He was able to handle angry Donna. Seeing her breaking in front of him was too much. The hunter moved closer and shuffled the items on the table around until he could perch himself on the edge of it in front of her. With a shaky hand, Dean reached out and took Donna’s hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze before reluctantly letting it go.

“I watched you go…” He started. The whole thing was etched into his mind, a cruel reminder of how badly the night had ended for both of them. “And then I turned back to drink my beer. Remember that? Random beers? Bit suss, in hindsight. Don’t you think?” Dean smiled ruefully when she didn’t react to his words and pressed on. Donna’s stony gaze was easily comparable to one of Sam’s bitchfaces in strength. Dean swallowed a little nervously. “It can’t be a coincidence….” He took another deep breath and resigned himself to the fact that he probably wouldn’t be buying what he was selling. Not by a long shot.

“Then there were.. Hands covering my eyes and a voice.. Something about a surprise.. I swear to God Donna. I swear it was your voice.” Dean’s eyes dropped and he observed his fingers entwining over and over while he tried to sort out what happened next. “Your hands. I mean we’d just spent the whole evening together. Been on a hunt. We’ve known each other for ages. I’d know your voice anywhere.”

“ _ Maybe _ you were just drunk and looking for something quick and easy and..  _ there _ .” She interjected with a frown on her face, hoping he’d deny it… because then it would have thrown their encounter into a whole different category again.

“....No. I.. Well, yeah we were both tipsy. But drunk? There’s no way in hell I’m mistaking  _ your _ voice for anyone else’s even if I’m three sheets to the wind.” Dean was desperate for her to believe him. “Before I could open my eyes she’d spun my stool around and was in my lap with her.. dammit..” He closed his eyes, dropping his head down in remorse. “ _ ‘Keep those eyes closed sugar. I’ve got a surprise for you’ _ was all I heard and then the next thing I knew there were two of you and…”

Dean took a deep breath and pushed on. “And the one that I wanted wasn’t where I wanted her to be.” He stared at his knuckles twisting and turning in his lap for a few long moments waiting.

But Donna didn’t say anything. Dean could feel her staring at him. The tension in the air was palpable.

Eventually Dean pushed himself up to his full height and nodded sadly into the silence.

“I don’t know what happened Donna. I swear. But I’m sorry.” He looked at her sitting there, refusing to look at him. Dean could see the turmoil in her eyes though. The doubt.

His eyes drifted away from her to the coffee table and the files that were now well scattered there.

Something about a body and a pond. A case near the river that ran through the woods not far from here, maybe. Dean realised he’d interrupted Donna doing actual work and sighed. Talk about more bad timing. He picked up his discarded jacket, looking at her again before moving to the door.

“If you want to talk I’ll be around.” Awkward. This was so awkward. “I’m sorry.”

And with that, Dean left the Sheriff’s house and headed to the nearest motel. He needed to shower and decompress. Donna needed space to maybe throw a few things around and curse him some more. Or something.

He refused to believe that he had just chickened out of a scenario again.

Once checked in, Dean headed straight for the shower, stripping off his clothes as he wandered through the room. He threw his shirt over the bed, slid out of his jeans and boxer briefs and opened a beer, grimacing a little at the warmth of the liquid. Served him right for leaving it in the car for so long. The rest he shoved into the little refrigerator, certain that he’d be consuming at least 2 more before he hit the hay.

The faint feeling of the beer sloshing around in his stomach reminded Dean that he hadn’t eaten, but he ignored it as he turned the shower on and stepped under the spray. The warm water stung at the cuts on his hand, but the pain was fleeting. He just stood there, slumped against the tiles letting the water sluice over him. Eyes closed, Dean waited for it to sooth away some of the tension from the night. And the day before that. And the day before that.

_ Sam. _

God, he didn’t want to think about how much damage they’d done to their relationship this time.

_ Donna. _

He still had no idea what had happened there. There were no hex bags, nothing he could find to explain what had happened on that night.

One mess at a time. It was all he could do.

Long moments passed before Dean could summon the energy to lift himself off the wall and leave the shower. His tired mind was sending images of Donna’s case files to him but there was no way he was able to process the feeling of dis-ease that came with them. Dean checked his phone.

Nothing. 

She hadn’t called. There was no text.

_ Two days _ , Dean told himself. Two days and he’d head back to Kansas to find Sam. Still wearing nothing but his towel, the hunter threw himself onto the bed with a deep sigh.

Within moments he was out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments welcome you lovely süße Knödels!
> 
> <3


End file.
